Iggy's Birthday
by PeechTao
Summary: Iggy has the the best/worst birthday in history. And it isn't even his real birthday! Made in my traditional style of pain, anguish, friendship, and a hidden surprise at the end just for Ig. Full of humor, some action, blood, and new beginnings!one-shotis
1. Chapter 1

this is pretty much 1 long one-shot. I broke it up to so you could read it better.

I don't own anything of course

PLEASE review! I really need it!

**Iggy's Birthday**

It was dark when he woke up. Funny how things were always that was. Outside his door he could hear Fang and Max already up. He scrunched his face, stretching his arms with a mighty yawn. He tapped the clock beside his bed and heard its melodramatic voice say "6:33 A-M."

"Bloody heck!" He cried and rolled over, his attempt at falling back to sleep. Crazy Fang. Crazy Max. Waking up this early just because! Making him wake up because their noise was so . . .so . . .noisy.

Iggy groaned, pulling his pillow over his head. Just out the door pans were knocking around, stuff toppled over, at least three eggs hit the floor. He could count each tiny crack as they smacked and shattered. Curse his sensitive ears!

Why in this universe were they using pans? _Don't tell me they're cooking_, he thought, making his eyes shoot open needlessly. A shiver shriveled itself down his spine at the thought. But they were cooking. He took the pillow off to listen harder.

A bag rustled.

"Fang don't drop that—"

**Crash!**

Iggy winced, knowing full well they just broke one of his favorite mixing bowls. It was a really nice one with a floral etched design—

_**CRASH!**_

He sat up now, blanket falling to his waist. "What in the . . ." he let his voice trail off. Another exclamation, this time from Fang sent him out of bed. He didn't even pull a shirt on, just went right out in his sleep pants. He traced a hand on the wall, then the back of the couch to find his way. He probably could have anyway just by following their voices.

All of a sudden everything stopped. He guessed they were looking at him.

"_What_ are you doing with my _stuff_?" He almost growled.

Another egg hit the floor.

"Uh, Iggy," Max tried first, fumbling, "We—uh . . ." she failed.

"Happy birthday." Fang said flatly, without a tone.

Iggy blinked, surprised. "Birthday? It's my birthday?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." He hadn't expected that. "So, you're breaking my stuff?"

Max sighed, figuring the jig was up at that point. "We were trying to make you a cake. Before anyone got up. It's not going well."

Iggy smiled. He had to admit this had him surprised. Here he was, faced with his two best friends attempting something they both dreaded just to make him happy. His smile brightened some more. "Thanks guys. But I'm guessing, especially in this instance, that it's the thought that counts. Now, please, stop breaking so many bowels." He turned and headed toward his room. "Can't wait to taste it! Remember, the eggs are out of their shells when you add them."

Fang and Max exchanged a look and set to digging the eggs out of the batter.

Iggy went in search of the bathroom. The house was a big one. Big and new, which meant he often got himself totally lost. Thinking of the alternative, though (a very small home with about three bedrooms where he always found himself tripping over someone) he was glad it was big.

After the world settled a little when Itex went down, the Flock returned to Dr. Martinez. She was outrageously happy to have them. After a very short time they soon realized the old house was just too small. But, with a little cash Jeb forked over from the Itex's crash they bought a really big house. What mattered was he had his own room.

Suddenly he tripped, heard a muffled howl and ended up falling on his hip. A tangle of furry feet and tails extracted from under his legs. He instantly knew it was the two dogs, Total and Magnolia.

"What's the rule about sleeping in the hall?" Iggy shouted.

Total said nothing, knowing full well he was in the wrong and what could he say to Iggy anyway? _Keep your eyes open, Bozo _just did not work on him. So the two just trotted off.

Iggy hadn't realized he was sitting against a door. If he had, he may have moved before the person's door opened and he fell back into the room.

"Oh, Iggy! What happened?"

It had to be the doc.

"Dogs in the hall." He replied, picking himself up. "Now that I'm all turned around, point me in the direction of the nearest rest room." He pointed his finger in both directions, then up and down and smiled.

"To the left, three doors down." She replied pleasantly.

"Your left or mine?"

"Your left, my right." she added.

"My right?" he headed in the wrong direction.

Martinez laughed some, turning him around and pushing him the correct way.

He chuckled also, walking on. He opened a door, only to receive a shrill shriek.

"Iggy! Get out! Don't you knock?" It was Elle.

"Well, for one I'm blind!" he reminded her, shutting it for her own peace of mind. "Now where's the bathroom?"

"Right behind you."

He turned directly around and marched straight across the hall, found a door, opened it, and stepped in. Or out. He had walked right out onto the front porch. He rolled his eyes, turning to go back in, but the door shut behind him. He tried the knob. It locked!

"Ha!" It was Elle again. "Serves you right!"

"You locked me out!" Iggy shot back, jiggling the knob.

"Go tinkle a bush!" she said. Behind her Valencia had quickly gone into her room, grabbed a bag of gifts they stashed there for Iggy's birthday and ran back out to hide them in her own room.

"I am so serious right now!" Iggy replied. Man, why was everybody awake? It was six frickin thirty! When she didn't answer, Iggy kicked the bottom of the door.

A click sounded from the door and Iggy pushed inside before Elle changed her mind. A hand, probably Fang's pushed on his back, directing him to the bathroom. A couple of minutes later he emerged, found his own room again, and passed out for a few more hours.

In this particular juncture, Valencia helped finish the cake. Angel, Nudge, Max, and Elle wrapped the gifts as Fang and Gassy woke Iggy back up. The boys drug him out of the house so he wouldn't be able to hear any of the happenings. Or smell anything either. So, for good measure they took off to some unknown sky to stretch their wings and enjoy the beautiful warmth of summer.

Though he enjoyed himself immensely, it was plainly obvious to Iggy everyone was hiding something. He'd sensed it sort of lately. The fact that it was his birthday clarified a little. Maybe he was having a real party. Like with cake (however that was going to taste) presents, candles, balloons . . . he pressed his lips together to keep his glee in check, beating his wings listlessly. This would be cool after all.

He would be happy, surprised, and fake enjoying the cake as he sorted through the egg shells. There would be gifts, maybe a tech pack, and some more copper wires for his bombs OOH! Black powder and . . .

As he thought and dreamed he missed Fang's call to complete alert. He missed the brush against his wing, but he didn't miss the bullet that went grazing by his skull. Suddenly snapping to his senses, he pulled in his wings and dropped about twenty feet before extending his right, shorting his left to do a swift 1800 that took him towards Fang.

The sounds of grinding gears made him turn full and engage a Flyboy at his side. A few swift punches, a drop, flap up, and his shoe connected with the Flyboy's spine. He heard the familiar snap and the robot crumbled. He wasn't long without a new opponent; another two Flyboys replaced the first. "How many?" he called.

"About—"Fang hit two spines and punched a third in the jaw. "Twenty-seven now."

"Scouting party." Iggy mentioned grimly. The Flock had virtually dropped off the radar when Itex went down almost a year ago. Scouts were uncommon, but if so much as one got a radio contact out it could send hundreds more. The actual army was waning. At least there weren't thousands.

Iggy followed the sudden beep-beep-beep of a transmitting Flyboy and swiftly dispatched him. Another beeping signal sent him in a different direction, but a string of bullets stopped him. He split off, dipping and diving through the air. The beep cut out as Gasman suddenly exclaimed "Hi-i-i-i-YA!"

But Iggy was still dodging fate. He heard Fang call him in sudden panic and raced to his aid. From the sound of it, Fang was weighed down by the remaining twelve or so Flyboys. One had him in a hold from behind as another socked him in the face, making his cheek stripe blood. Iggy flew to his dramatic rescue, thrashing the one in back by directing the bullets to it. Fang tucked his wings and dropped, dragging Iggy with him as the front Flyboy was hit.

A series of clicks put Iggy on bitter edge. He tugged Fang's arm before another Flyboy opened fire just feet away. Fang yelled something but Iggy ignored him. He was too busy trying to avoid the shots, wondering why all of a sudden he felt very tired. His wings weren't flapping as hard. The sounds around him seemed just to fade away. He felt a strange sort of calm, even though someone was giving him a black eye. What did it really matter? He couldn't see out of it.

Suddenly his mind went totally blank. A shock wave of pain fell over him, vibrating off his very being. He drew a sharp breath, but felt even that may kill him. His wings stopped flapping and he fell.

"Iggy!" Gassy screamed

"Flap! Iggy!" It was Fang, beating against the wind to come to his rescue. "Flap!"

In the darkness he was quickly disoriented, falling and falling. He didn't know when he'd hit the ground but was sure it wouldn't be long.

"Iggy!"

He tried to straighten out his spin, spreading out his large wings. They caught the air and he nearly screamed. He forced them to remain out, slowing his fall like a parachute.

Fang's voice was distant, telling him to bank left. Iggy didn't want to. As it was he hurt all over. Why was a mystery. He pulled his left wing in some with a shutter. He made a slow turn. The ground was apparently closer than he thought, which surprised him. His body usually could tell his altitude quite accurately. He hit the moss and grass of the small clearing Fang directed him too. He hit the ground so hard he felt his legs fold under him and was sure they must have shattered instantly. He could now trace his pain to an area of his chest, below his heart. Perhaps that is why he could not breathe. He hissed to try and stem his pain.

Only moments later did Fang land and began to fuss with his gun shot. Iggy wanted nothing more that to kick him off and wallow in his former pain. Now with Fang holding a folded up wad of a shirt against him, he felt like curling up to die.

Gassy landed close by, too afraid to come nearer. "Fang? Is he okay?"

"The Flyboys?"

There was a faint explosion.

"Got 'em." Gasman said, but without the satisfaction. He was fixed on Iggy's white face, and all the blood. "Is he okay?" he asked again, tears welling up.

"Get help." Fang told him.

Gasman didn't seem to hear.

"Gassy!"

His head snapped up.

"I can't lift Iggy all alone." Fang told him, his face stony serious. "Go get Max."

Gassy nodded and took off.

"F . . . F . . . Fnick?" Iggy muttered. His lips curled into a small smile. "Not feelin' too good here."

Fang nodded, but remembered Iggy couldn't see that. "Yeah, yeah I know. But you'll be fine. We've had worse."

"We've had worse." Iggy repeated quietly, as if trying to remember. He went silent.

"Iggy?" Fang tried. He shook him slightly. "Iggy? Iggy, Wake up!" He shook him a little harder, but still he didn't stir. He was still alive, Fang told himself. He was unconscious is all. Why did he have to pull Fang out of the line of fire? Why did he take the bullet? Fang wanted to punch a hand into the dirt 

but knew he couldn't take it away from the wound. "Don't die on me, Iggy." Fang pleaded, surprised the words escaped his mind.

"Fang!"

He looked up, finding Max circling the sky above him. "Max! Max, down here!"

She was beside him in mere moments. She was pale, but said nothing for once. She grabbed one arm, Fang the other, as they headed toward home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Iggy's Birthday**

Chapter 2

Having safely landed on their doorstep, Iggy slipped from their grasp to hit the porch with sickening flexibility. Fang went down beside him, putting more pressure on the gun shot as Valencia came out with an entire cabinet of med supplies in her arms. All of which hit the ground when she saw him.

"Max, Max, he needs a hospital." She breathed.

Fang shook his head no, but knew there really was no other way. Below him Iggy was colorless and still bleeding. His eyes were open a little and his lips quivered at every dramatic breath. He could actually be dying.

That never occurred to him. Not like it did just then. Suddenly he was very angry. All of this for a stupid party. It wasn't even his real birthday. No one knew that for sure. And here he was dying just because he pulled Fang away from that bullet.

"Fang?"

He said nothing, just nodded his consent. He could have stormed off if Iggy wasn't relying on him right now to keep from bleeding to death.

"It'll be okay." Valencia assured, pulling out her cell phone. "I already know someone who can help us."


	3. Chapter 3

**Iggy's Birthday**

Chapter 3

It turned out this someone was a white-haired man in green sea foam scrubs and squinty glasses. Apparently way-back-when he consulted on the mystery x-ray of Max's arm chip. No one knew why but to him the whole bird-kid idea was incredibly interesting, but solely in a medical sense, and beyond that he could hardly care. He learned all he needed from Dr. Martinez and having every little 

bird-kid surrender some blood, he disappeared into the O.R. where he wasn't heard from for another sixteen hours.

In this time, even the speechless Gasman saw the significance of going home, covering their tracks to be sure the Flyboys didn't crash their new digs. Max went to help and Nudge, Angel and Elle went to finish icing Iggy's birthday cake.

But Fang never moved. He sat there. Staring into total space. Time itself melted to nothing. Iggy could die, and it was his entire fault. Why didn't he take the shot? Why did Iggy have to save him?

Fang couldn't stand it. After hours of sitting he finally got up and crumbled the wall with his fist. He hit it again, and again, until his knuckles bled.

Martinez put a hand on his shoulder. He forgot she was still there. "He'll be all right, Fang."

He didn't even have the strength to shrug her off like usual when she went all mushy-motherly on him. He just stood there, facing the fist-sized circle he made in the wall.

"Are you Nick?"

Fang turned sharply to the white-haired doctor.

"How is he?" It was more of an angry growl then a request, but it didn't affect the doc. He motioned for them to sit, but Fang didn't.

"I won't lie and say it was easy or everything went fine. Jeff's had a rough time of it. He is alive so relax a second." He sat in a chair which inspired Fang to follow suit. "The bullet did hit his heart, or around it at least. The sack that protects it had a fair piece torn through before the bullet went back and made a quarter sized hole in his wing. I patched everything up as best I could. His pupils were fixed. That couple blows to the head he took knocked him awful senseless and—"

Fang was catching up on his swift words and stopped him suddenly. "He's blind, his pupils are always fixed."

Now the doctor's eyebrows shot up to his big balding hair line. "Someone forgot to mention that before—"

"Before what?" Fang accused, shaking with complete fury. "What did you do to him?"

The doctor, who seemed to impassive earlier, now, happened to look ruffled. "We, uh, fixed him."

Fang couldn't keep his jaw from unhinging. He couldn't groan, or freak out. He was a total blank. Iggy fixable? And no one knew? That simple?

"Now, it's only a fifty percent chance he'll have full vision again, and he isn't exactly unscarred. Brain surgery is a tricky thing . . ."

Fang wasn't listening. He just kept thinking of Iggy. Iggy who could see again. Iggy not dragging behind others pant loops. Iggy not asking what was going on. To see his food, to see them, to see the sky . . . Fang trembled to think.

"Can I see him? Now?"

The doctor paused. Fang had interrupted him. He disregarded it, smiled a little and nodded. "Only for a couple minutes. He needs to rest, all right?"

"Can he see me?" Fang asked. "Really look at me?"

"No." the answer was flat. "It'll be at least a week, month, before we can try that."

Fang huffed. Not with accelerated healing. Iggy would be ripping those bandages off in five minutes. Fang disappeared to Iggy's room, leaving the docs to talk. The place was pretty much blacked out, with all the windows covered to keep out prying eyes. Iggy's wings were unfurled, rolling out of the bed and onto the floor. One was obviously bandaged and lacking a few feathers. His arms were on top of the white sheets and thin blue blanket. Fang unconsciously pulled them over the bandages crisscrossing Iggy's chest.

"Too cold." Iggy muttered, unmoving.

Fang nodded. "Yeah, pretty cold in here, huh?"

"Where?" his voice said no more, figuring it was obvious. There wasn't much strength in it. Just random mumbles.

"Hospital. You took a bad hit."

Iggy moved some, as if to get comfortable, but stopped after a few moments.

Fang pulled a chair over and sat by him. It was the first time he noticed Iggy's right leg was in a cast. He must have broken it when he hit the ground. "How you feeling?"

"Drugged." Iggy replied. He lifted a hand dizzily and drunkenly. He touched his face to find firm bandages circling his head from the eyes up. "Hit my head? Don't remember that."

Fang wanted to tell him. He wanted Iggy to sit up and look at him. Not over him or past him, but was it best? After all he'd gone through, this extra blow? And what if the doc was wrong? What if Iggy was still blind? "That Flyboy punched your lights out. Must have broken something." He bit his lip, hoping Iggy wouldn't pick up what he left out.

"Feel's rough." Iggy went on. "Have I had worse?"

Fang wanted to say yes and mean it, but he found he couldn't. Shot in the heart, face busted in, wing shot up, leg broken. No, this was about the worst single incident of Iggy's life. At least he was alive. And he might even have his sight back to.

"I'm . . . tired."

Fang smiled a little. "Go on to sleep. I'll keep an eye on you."

" Tell Gassy hi." Iggy was drifting, mumbling some more before he fell to sleep.

It was less than ten minutes before the rest of the Flock, Elle and Valencia included, came in to stand watch over Iggy. They seemed excited and completely silent all at once. Fang was sure they were told Iggy would probably see again. He was glad, even, though they were young, that they were kind enough to let Iggy sleep.

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now review!!

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	4. Chapter 4

**Iggy's Birthday**

Chapter 4

"You jerk! Just tell me! I can't believe you are being so bloody stubborn! No, don't even try it!"

"Iggy, you have to—"

"Give it!"

"Not until you—"

"Gassy!" Iggy growled, folded his arms and turned his head away. Max and the others only laughed. Gassy had gotten bored the night before and raided around the hospital to find a fitting birthday gift. Unwrapped he didn't want to hand it over until Iggy, high on pain killers yet still mildly cranky, guessed what it may be. Iggy, still in mild discomfort wanted nothing more than to strangle him into submission. Fat chance with broken leg, wing, gunshot wound, and head trauma!

"One guess, Iggy, come on."

"Bed pan?" was the muttering reply.

"Nope."

"Sandwich."

"Nope."

"Pen, scalpel, kidney, eye balls . . ."

"Nope, nope, nope, nope."

Iggy turned back to him. "Vicodon?" he asked hopefully. He felt a cold metallic object rest in his hand and nearly jumped in surprised. He felt his way around the shapes. A big circle end attached to a long tube that branched into two pieces with rubber ends. His eyebrows furrowed, trying desperately to figure it out. He already got his copper wires, a few clocks to pull apart, fire crackers, some new shirts, 

sun glasses (for appearances he guessed) and spiky hair gel. Something from a hospital. Cold, metallic. He shrugged. "Okay, you've got me, what is it?"

"Stethoscope." Gassy said proudly. "Now you can crack safes easier!"

The lights went on and Iggy suddenly realized the countless possibilities this little device now opened. "And listening in, and setting timers, and . . . and . . ." he was so excited!

Little did he know the real surprised yet to come.

"Okay, Iggy." Max started, seeing the doc had come in. "We have some really, really big news, all right?"

"Sure! More stuff!" Ig smiled.

Fang and Max exchanged a look. Encouraged, Max continued. "Actually, one big surprise." She paused again, unsure how to phrase it all. "Well, uh . . . the doc said he fixed something. When you were out. Now, it's only a chance but you might—" She took a breath. "Iggy, you might see again."

This is the moment the rebellious Iggy scoffs, the adoring Iggy shrugs it off with a laugh, or the mortified Iggy says nothing but fumes over the cruelness of the joke. Now he said nothing. He sat totally silent, as if taking it all in. in a moment he spoke. "Take the bandages off."

Max looked at the white coat who came forward. He took Iggy's bandages and began unwrapping slowly. Little by little skin began to show. Stitch after stitch, bruise after bruise, black eyes, cuts, and scrapes from the Flyboy's knuckles. "Don't open your eyes quite yet." The doctor instructed. "Give it a second." He gestured with a hand and Nudge gave over Iggy's new sun glasses.

The lights were turned down, so after so long of blackness Iggy would not be shocked. The teen's wings twitched with anticipation.

Fang and Max crossed their fingers.

"all right, open up, birthday boy!" the doctor exclaimed.

Iggy smiled. "Yeah, the best birthday."

His eyes opened.

The end!

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